The Wolf’s Whisper: The Complete Series

3. Emily

I was drooling.

Unlike most mornings, thrust into consciousness already tired, worn down, and wondering how important my college education was, I woke up feeling more energized than I’d been in ages. I felt like I’d slept for twelve hours instead of the scant six or so I’d managed before getting ready for my first class.

There was something else hidden amongst all of the energy that was bubbling within me: an unmitigated, unprecedented, totally consuming hunger.

I was ravenous, which really wasn’t like me. I knew breakfast was important, especially since I hadn’t eaten much the day before, but my stomach usually took a while to settle after waking up. As a college student, I always took a few extra hits of the snooze button rather than getting up early enough to eat. It was a tradeoff, but one that’d worked for me so far. Or at least it had, until I got out of bed and realized eating an entire horse didn’t seem so impossible.

I settled on two heaping bowls of Wheaties cereal. Given the price of the family-sized boxes lately, it was the monetary equivalent of eating an entire stallion. That should have been enough to hold me over, as it was double what I normally ingested in the AM, but as I cut through the coffee shop next to the Research Center entrance, I found my mouth watering yet again.

Everything looked so delicious. Even the nut bar by the granola and oatmeal stand, and I was allergic to peanuts.

My brain was quickly enveloped in a deluge of scent and noise I hadn’t experienced since I was a teenager and really struggled with my compulsive comfort eating. I’d come so far in developing my healthy relationship with food, in understanding that there was no guilt, that enjoying each moment with my meal was far better than shoving as much into my mouth as possible. But now? I wanted to binge like I hadn’t done in ages.

What was going on with me? Was it a stress reaction? Whatever the case, I wouldn’t fall back into bad habits. I loved myself, and though I had a lot to work on, I liked that food was now more of an important but measured part of my day instead of what I was living for, instead of dominating my every waking thought.

So it was with that discipline that I only bought myself a small cookie, a savory pastry with eggs and veggies in it, a banana, and an egregiously large bottle of water. It was my body making up for all the energy it had burned while having a fever. At least that’s what I told myself as I found a seat in the small campus café and began to inhale my food. I tried to slow down, I did. I knew from experience what eating too fast could do, and the last thing I needed was bubble guts or vomiting up everything I paid for. I was far too broke to waste money like that.

To try to slow down, I checked the group message between me and my friends. I’d made sure to drop a line to them the previous night, apologizing for not being over my illness. While most of them had wished me good health, the responses felt lackluster. Oh, well, that wasn’t a reflection on myself, but rather the fact that they were all out pretty late and likely shit-faced. Surely they couldn’t hold it against me that I’d caught a bug, right? After all, we lived on a college campus. It was common knowledge that illnesses systematically rolled through the entire student body.

As I set my phone down and really got into the savory, buttery pastry, the darn thing rang. Gross. Who made calls anymore? Phones were for texting and looking at stupid videos on the internet.

Regardless, I answered it and was surprised to hear my mother on the other end.

“Good morning, sweetie. Are you on your way to your first class?”

“I am,” I said around a mouthful of food. “Just stopped to get something to munch on.”

“Oh, you’re eating breakfast? Good for you! It’s the best way to start your day.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Well, here, I won’t keep you long, I know you’re so busy! I wanted to check in that you’ll be coming home this weekend for the party.”

Ah, right. The annual joint birthday party for my father and me. People were always surprised to find out we had the same date of birth, but I’d specifically requested it. It was one of the few perks of being adopted and having one of the skimpiest information files the adoption center ever had. No one knew anything about my biological parents, my birthday, or even any of my allergies. No, my allergies had been found out the hard way.

But I’d never forget the day my true parents walked in and picked me. We hadn’t even spent that much time together. They’d just read a book to me and said that somehow, they knew. This was how I ended up with a real family two days before my adoptive father’s birthday. Naturally, it seemed right for him and me to celebrate together, and we’d been doing the same thing ever since. I really liked it, and although I’d grown much more independent since the first day they brought me home, I still cherished and appreciated our relationship.

“Of course, Mom,” I said. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

There was a slight pause on the other end, and I could tell she was formulating something, but I couldn’t think of a single thing she’d be nervous to spring on me. I went with the flow when it came to these parties. I was simply happy to celebrate with my family and friends.

“I just didn’t know if you had plans with Gavin. You two have been together for a while now, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, thinking back to those early days when Gavin first expressed interest in me. I’d been so skeptical that he could possibly feel any attraction to me, but it was actually before my birthday the previous year that we started going out. “We just passed a year.”

“My goodness, how time flies! Things are still going well, right? I know you get caught up with school, but I figure you would tell me if things were getting rocky.”

“I promise I would, Mom. Things are fine! We’re both a little slammed with school right now, but we make the time we can.”

“I understand, dear. You know, I remember my college days, and I can’t help but think you young ones are loaded up with even more now.”

“It certainly feels that way.” Talk about understatement of the year. It was strange, living in modern times. I had the advantage of having all the information in the world right at my fingertips, but never enough hours to actually use it and complete every bit of homework, not to mention studying. I was always juggling, always living in perpetual fear of dropping something, then having everything rain down in utter catastrophe.

“You know, the reason I was wondering if you made plans with Gavin is because there might be a proposal.”

I nearly choked on my food. “Proposal? Mom, we’ve only been dating for a year!”

“Of course, of course,” she said quickly. “But still, it’s not entirely unheard of. You two do seem entirely serious. When I met your father, I knew he was the one within the first six months.”

“Uh…” I moved in my seat, growing increasingly uncomfortable. I loved my mom to pieces, but sometimes she could be so damn impractical. I loved being in a relationship, and I was a very loyal girlfriend. Still, that didn’t mean I was ready to sign my life away. After all, I was still figuring out who Emily was. It was only in the past few years that I’d even begun to like her at all and realize she was a person worth putting work into. “Mom, I’m only twenty-one.”

“You’re about to be twenty-two!”

“Yeah, exactly. I still feel like a kid.”

“Ha, I understand that. I didn’t really feel like an adult until I was in my mid-thirties. But you know, I can’t help but sometimes daydream about your future. I just want the best for you.”

“Thank you, Mom. I know you do. But no, there are absolutely no proposal plans in our future.”

“Ah, all right, then. I’ll make sure to tuck my dreamer’s cap back in the closet, and I won’t keep you then! I’m proud of you for eating, my dear. I can’t wait to see you this weekend!”

“I can’t wait, either. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you, too, sweetie!”

With that, she hung up, and I was finally able to return to my food. I was still just as ravenous as before, but I sincerely hoped that wasn’t going to become a trend. Checking the time, I realized I still had twenty minutes before I needed to make a beeline for my class, so I budgeted out minutes for each item of food and let myself go. The time limit helped me not rush too much but also not be late. It was one thing to be sick, another to be hungry, but it was an entirely different thing to be tardy for my first period.

I had a reputation, after all. A goody-two-shoes one, but I’d like to keep it that way. Besides, I hated being late . It always made me feel like I was starting off on the wrong foot and had to catch up.

But as I ate, I thought of the discontent brewing in my stomach. The idea of being engaged to Gavin just felt wrong, and that feeling, in turn, was shifting into a pretty heady sensation of guilt. Weren’t most young girls supposed to get all swoony at the idea of their boyfriend proposing to them? Or was that just a stereotype? I knew my parents could be a little old-fashioned, as they’d adopted me later in life and were older than most of my friends’ parents and guardians.

Ugh, thinking about it was just gonna make my stomach churn that much more. Instead, I concentrated on my food and getting my head on right for the day. I had a lot to do, and a lot of ground to catch up on.

I certainly didn’t need any more distractions in my life.